


You're the Chance I Want to Take

by strangeallure



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alien Planet, Caves, Desert, Exploration, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Rainforests, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure
Summary: Nyota and Gaila are roommates at the academy. For one of their finals, they compete with four other teams in a five-day exploration of an alien planet. They have to find their way through unknown terrain, having only their smarts, minimal equipment and each other to rely on.Little do they know that the spores they encounter on their first day might have certain side effects, causing them to act on feelings both of them have been hiding, maybe even from themselves.





	You're the Chance I Want to Take

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Star Trek Femslash Big Bang 2019](https://trekfemslashbang.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Thank you to the lovely mod for all their work and dedication ♥
> 
> Thank you to the amazing [sciencebluefeelings](https://sciencebluefeelings.tumblr.com/), who drew beautiful art of Nyota and Gaila exploring a cave system for this fic.
> 
> Thank you to [Louise](https://theanxiousfander.tumblr.com/) and Kerry for reading and encouragement.
> 
> The song Nyota's grandpa used to play on the piano, _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ from Grieg's Peer Gynt Suite, can be found here: [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7zcS8yr33Q)

Their eyes sting and their lungs burn. Smoke and debris are everywhere, the air reeking of fried conductors and coolant. Every alarm on the shuttle is blaring, and the lone operational console keeps flashing a proximity warning as they’re hurtling towards the planetary surface.

Nyota is elbow-deep in circuitry, trying to reroute all remaining energy to thrusters, while Gaila’s hammering manual course corrections into the emergency input module to mitigate the force of impact.

Everything goes dark.

Suddenly, there’s the familiar tingling of the matter-stream scanner lock and within moments, Nyota’s been transported to another location. Instinctively, she shields her eyes against the glaring brightness, trying to stabilize her stance on uneven ground. Sand, she realizes.

She lowers her arm and squints at Gaila, who’s right next to her.

After the claustrophobic frenzy of their simulated shuttle crisis, the hot, dry air of their new environment is a relief. Nyota takes a deep breath that’s not filled with noxious smells and lets the sudden quiet wash over her as she looks around, stillness replacing the ringing of alarms that’s been pounding in her ears for the past hour.

Their instructors weren’t kidding when they said that part of their final exam would be navigating a “realistic crisis situation.” Nyota has the scrapes and bruises to show for it, that much becomes clear as she pats herself down, examining her body to make sure there’s no major injury that might be masked by adrenaline or loss of sensation.

When she looks up, Gaila has moved away a few paces and is now bent over one of two backpacks with the Starfleet emblem, unclasping a canteen from one of them.

“First things first,” she hollers in Nyota’s direction and takes a swig.

Nyota rolls her eyes, already on her way to join Gaila. Her friend’s not wrong. They’ve just been through a strenuous crisis simulation that ended in their shuttle crashing; keeping themselves hydrated wasn’t a priority. In a desert climate like this, with two suns blasting in the sky, it’s definitely a good idea.

Nyota removes the canteen from the second pack and takes a drink.

Just as she notices a silvery glare a few meters away, a holographic image is projected into the air above the small, metal object: “Instructions. Please read.”

A padd with a holo module.

“Maybe we shouldn’t move or open these packs before we’ve read the instructions,” Nyota says. Gaila nods in agreement.

As soon as she touches the padd, a message appears on its screen:

> _Team Delta,_
> 
> _Your shuttle crash-landed on this as-yet unexplored planet._
> 
> _From preliminary scans aboard your ship you know that_
> 
> _a) the planet’s atmosphere is breathable, but its natural radiation will start having detrimental effects on your mind and body after about 5 days (120 hours),_
> 
> _b) the planet’s atmosphere and electromagnetic fields prevent communication with your ship from all but five locations on its surface._
> 
> _The two backpacks in your possession contain everything you managed to salvage from your shuttle._
> 
> _Your mission is to contact your ship before 120 hours are up._
> 
> _Good luck!_
> 
> _ Assignment notes _
> 
> 1\. All members of your team have to be within a five-meter radius when contact is established for your mission to be considered accomplished.
> 
> _2\. 50% of your grade will be determined by if and how quickly you complete your mission. 50% of your grade will be determined by your previous class assignments._
> 
> _3\. If you fail to accomplish your mission by the end of day 5, you will be beamed off-planet. This will result in a failing grade for everyone on your team._
> 
> _4\. This padd will count down your time. Do not destroy it to use it for parts._

It’s about what they expected from a course that’s been preparing them for a situation exactly like this. The crisis event was a simulation on an academy training vessel, but they’ve been advised that the main part of the exam would take place in a real-life environment, so wherever they are, this is a real place.

Nyota is reasonably sure that the dangerous radiation levels are a fiction (she can’t imagine Starfleet endangering their cadets like that), but from what they’ve been told, everything else will be one-hundred percent real, so the option of trying to hack the simulation is off the table.

Not that Nyota would try to cheat like that, but she knows Gaila was quite impressed when Jim Kirk pulled a similar stunt during the Kobayashi-Maru exercise.

“Lay of the land first or inventory?” Gaila asks.

And yes, that’s one of the very first important questions, right after getting out of the blast radius in case the wreckage explodes, accounting for crew and checking for injuries. Lesson one after the crew is safe: deciding whether to prioritize seeking cover or taking stock to find out what they have to work with.

Before getting caught in the simulated meteor shower, they did some regular surface scans, so at least they’re not flung into the situation completely blind.

“There were no readings indicating any forms of animal life, so we should be safe on that front,” Nyota says.

“Yeah.” Gaila nods. “No predators or poisonous bugs.” She swirls her hand in the air, indicating the space around them. “Makes sense. Radiation levels that’ll start killing mammals like us within a few days would make it hard for anything to evolve that could attack us.” Before Nyota can even begin listing possible defense mechanisms and variations in xeno-biology, Gaila adds with a grin, “Just a good indicator, of course, not a guarantee.”

Nyota doesn’t say, _You know me so well_, but in the way she looks at Gaila, it’s probably implied.

Casting a glance around, she makes her own observation: “Besides, I can’t even make out a place to seek cover in this … sand pit.”

They’re situated in something like a large crater, in the middle of what resembles a giant pie crust made of sand, a single scrawny tree the only solid object in visual range.

“Better review what we’ve got first. Maybe we can leave some things behind, lighten the load.”

There’s some white mesh material stuffed in the back of Gaila’s pack, and they put it on the ground to protect the equipment. When they find a few pieces of sheet metal in Nyota’s pack, they make a stand out of them to shield everything from the direct heat of the two suns as well as possible gusts of sand. The air is quiet right now, but they saw some volatile weather patterns on the radar during the shuttle simulation.

There’s no food or drink outside the water in the canteens, about 1.5 liters each, so finding potable water should be their first order of business. Otherwise they won’t last more than a few hours in this heat.

“Okay,” Gaila says. “There must be a water source close by, and we must have a way to look for it.” It’s not how they should argue in an actual crisis, but since they know this is a task that can be completed, Nyota agrees that it’s smart to incorporate that knowledge into the premises they’re working with.

“You think it’ll be technology-based, or should we try something a little more low-tech first?”

“I’m all for low-tech,” Gaila says, and a brief memory of her friend’s delighted smile when she started her first fire from nothing more than twigs and tinder flashes through Nyota’s mind, “but that tree over there looks pretty dead, and I don’t see anything else to go on right now.”

It’s a good point. For any low-tech approach, they’d first have to reach the crest of the sloping sand crater in order to survey what’s around them. Nyota doesn’t want to risk going all the way up only to realize they’ve been walking in the wrong direction.

“if we take that module apart,” Gaila says, pointing at a mostly-intact piece of equipment, “and combine it with the components from this broken transmitter, we should be able to build a scanner. A little primitive, maybe, but good enough to detect significant amounts of water.”

“Right,” Nyota agrees, drawing out the word to buy herself some time to think about the next step. “And once that problem is solved, we can adjust the parameters to find one of the locations that will allow us to establish communication.”

“Perfect.” Gaila grins at her. “Follow the scans, send out the signal, get our grade, go home.”

Nyota smiles, skeptical, of course it won’t be that easy.

“There’s just one problem,” she says. “All our equipment is near-field. Even if we manage to modify the array and broaden the range, we won’t get reliable readings beyond the five kilometer mark. I mean, we could try and hope for the best.” She gestures into the wide, sandy space surrounding them on all sides. “But we’d need to get all the way up on that crest to survey what we’re dealing with, and that should take us,” she gauges the shadow of the single scrawny tree in the distance and makes an educated guess, “almost three hours. That’s a long time to be going in the wrong direction.”

Unfortunately, Nyota doesn’t have any other ideas right now. The muscles in her neck tighten and she grinds her teeth. She hates feeling thwarted so soon into the mission.

_Keep thinking_, she tells herself, _there has to be a solution_. She’s a smart woman, an excellent student, she will not be emergency-beamed out of this scenario because she couldn’t figure out how to stay hydrated.

Out of nowhere, Gaila squeezes her arm and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek, a warm press of soft lips that’s gone before Nyota fully registers that it happened. “You’re a genius,” she says with that wide-open smile that always makes Nyota feel a little off-kilter.

_What? How?_ Before she can put her confusion into words, Gaila continues.

“Long range, of course, that’s what we need.” Gaila picks up the padd and waves it around triumphantly. “We can use the padd for that. See, it’s an LF1731, newest model. They have a stripped-down long-range sensor bank built in.”

It would be a great workaround; if it wasn’t for the assignment notes. “But we’re not supposed to use the padd.”

“Oh no,” Gaila says with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She pulls up the instructions and reads out loud: “_4\. This padd will count down your time. Do not destroy it to use it for parts._” She raises her brows meaningfully. “I have no intention of destroying the padd and using it for parts. I just want to connect it to the scanner we’re building to extend its range. The padd will stay perfectly intact.”

Gaila’s right, and her glee at bending the rules makes Nyota laugh.

“You sneaky, smart woman,” she says, unable to subdue the grin on her own face.

It takes some time to take apart the tech they have in the ways they need to, especially since they’re missing a few useful tools, but Gaila and Nyota work well together like they always do. It never ceases to amaze Nyota how Gaila can make little jokes and give her a playful jostle every now and then while still doing great work in great time.

It used to annoy her, but they’ve been roommates for two years now, friends for almost as long, and Nyota’s learned to absorb some of the relaxed, amiable vibe Gaila exudes so effortlessly. It keeps her from stressing and narrowing her focus too much, making it easier to keep the bigger picture in mind as she works.

They wind up with a bulky main unit that’s too heavy to use as a hand-held, but for their test run, they’ll simply let it sit on the ground and put their canteens in front of the scanning array.

When the display shows separate water readings for both canteens, they cheer.

Their crude little scanner also detects some chemicals that are to be expected in a silica-based desert and tells them a little more about air composition (neither alarming nor heartening). Their immediate vicinity seems to be just as barren as they thought, so there’s no way around hooking up the padd to extend the range.

It takes some more time and finesse (Nyota’s salvaging experience from an internship a few years ago comes in quite handy, if she does say so herself), but they do get the padd and scanner connected with an improvised cable, and after a quick reboot, a lot more data is coming in. Long-range data.

It’s an old-fashioned workaround, but it should do.

“It’s working!” Nyota exclaims, clapping excitedly, just as Gaila says, “You did it,” her tone possibly even more excited than Nyota’s.

Nyota, padd in hand, starts walks in a circle around their main unit. At 78 degrees north of their position, they find a pretty good indicator for water. Their readings on terrain or distance aren’t comprehensive, but the source shouldn’t be too far from the highest point of the dune.

“Let’s go,” Gaila says.

“Not so fast.” Nyota’s eyes are trained on the visual output module and she keeps walking to complete the circle. “I want to make sure we know all our options.”

Sure enough, they’ve picked up two more possible water sources by the time she’s made a full turn.

As soon as she does, Gaila breaks the connection.

“Hey,” Nyota says, annoyed, “I hadn’t transferred the final readings yet.” Their device’s memory capacity is limited and they have to physically press a button for every data point, so they decided to only save data that has a good chance of being useful later, especially in terms of comparing upfront readings and actual location. It’ll be important to get a better sense of how much their readings deviate from real-world data if they are to rely on them to complete their mission.

“No worries,” Gaila replies. “I have the important ones in my head.”

“Still.”

“Touch it,” Gaila replies and gestures at the stationary part of their makeshift scanner.

“Holy shit,” Nyota exclaims. The casing is almost too hot to touch. Probably hot enough that a few more seconds would have fried the circuits. “I didn’t even notice.”

“You were hyper-focused. It happens,” Gaila says with a shrug, like it’s no big deal.

It’s also a rookie mistake. Nyota hates not measuring up to her own standards, and she hates it even more when someone is there to witness her failing. Especially someone whose opinion matters to her. Yet somehow, Gaila has a way of making the sting feel less sharp, even though Nyota has come to regard her as one of the people whose opinion matters the most.

“Thanks,” she says, but she can’t quite look Gaila in the eye.

She realizes something. “We should probably be worried about energy conservation, too. That kind of localized heat development means the device is using up a lot more energy than I would have expected.”

“Exactly,” Gaila agrees. “And there’s only one battery pack in our arsenal.”

Gaila’s near-photographic memory means they can let the scanner cool down while they scratch out some numbers in the sand and figure out which option to pursue.

Thankfully, and despite the sun and heat, the readings indicated low UV radiation, so at least they don’t have to worry about burning their skin. Still, they both pull up their hair and sling pieces of that bright-white mesh material around their heads and shoulders to reflect the sunlight and keep most of the sand they’re raising with every step out of their faces. Nyota fashions a bit of a visor from the fabric to counter glare and then does the same for Gaila.

It reminds Nyota of desert walks with her grandparents, when her grandma or granddad would do this for her, insisting it was not just traditional but better than the sunglasses her parents preferred.

As predicted, trudging up to the crest of the dunes takes well over two hours, depleting a substantial part of their water supply. At least the gravitational pull here is weaker than on earth, so the trek up isn’t quite as strenuous as it could be.

While they were waiting for the scanner to cool down, Nyota managed to build a primitive compass from parts, so they don’t need to use additional power to check their position between scans.

Once they arrive at the crest, the view is spectacular.

Behind them, the desert and its softly sloping dunes continue west all the way to the horizon, but there’s thick, lush vegetation in bright greens, yellows and purples stretching out right in front of them. According to their scans, the rainforest-like environment should be about two more kilometers away, but it seems impossibly close. Nyota knows how hard it is to accurately gauge distances by sight alone, especially in an unknown environment, but she still feels like she could touch the nearest tree if she stretched out her hand.

They both allow themselves another sip from their canteens and take a moment to admire their panoramic view of the desert before they leave it behind.

Nyota hasn’t really spent time in the desert since her grandparents moved off-world when she was in middle school, but the sands here, even though they look quite different from the Nyiri, exert a similar hypnotic pull. She’s sure her grandma would have loved the sight of yellow-white sand slopes giving way to swirling reddish hues and rich, dark browns in the far distance where the sand meets the sky.

It’s so beautiful Nyota has to remind herself that it’s also quite deadly. For miles and miles, there’s nothing there outside of a few spindly trees and random pieces of rock, not so much as a tumbleweed.

“Good thing you did the whole 360 degrees,” Gaila says, smiling from underneath her mesh shawl. Up on the crest, there’s a breeze going, and it makes some bright-red locks that have escaped from beneath the fabric dance in front of Gaila’s face. “I’m not sure what water source we picked up on out west, but it doesn’t look like we would have made it there before dying of dehydration.”

Nyota is smiling back. It’s satisfying to know she ended up doing a good thing, even if she almost fried their equipment in the process.

“Looks beautiful, though,” she says. _The desert is a proud, ornery lady,_ her grandma used to say. _She’ll allow visitors, but she’ll make sure they won’t stay too long._

“Maybe we can come back for a photo op another time,” Gaila says warmly right before an impish grin splits her face. “You know what would save us at least twenty minutes going down this hill?” She raises her eyebrows meaningfully, and suddenly Nyota knows exactly what she’s talking about. For once, she’s fully on board.

“I do!” she exclaims as she takes her backpack off her shoulders, makes sure it’s secured shut, and then pushes it to roll down the dunes.

Gaila’s features fill with delighted surprise, and it makes a weird sense of joy and … pride, maybe, swirl in Nyota’s gut.

“Woohoo!” Gaila yells into the sandy wind and does the same thing.

She holds up a rectangular piece of slippery tarp she held back and puts it on the ground. “This can be our magic carpet,” she says to Nyota, beaming as she sits down in front.

Nyota shakes her head but goes along willingly. She’s not quite sure of the physics here, but who is she to doubt one of the brightest minds on the academy campus.

Gaila tells Nyota to sit right behind her and makes her wind her legs around Gaila’s waist, so both of them can use their hands to hold on to the corners of the tarp.

It’s strange to wrap herself around Gaila like this and feels better than it has any right to, but Nyota can’t think about that too much, or she’ll stop doing what feels good in the moment, and then she’ll disappoint Gaila, and that’s the last thing she wants to do when her friend has this amazingly bright, adventurous smile on her face.

Nyota has a lot of rules – a fixed bedtime, a strict study and workout schedule, a no-relationships-while-in-school policy – and she knows Gaila chafes against that sometimes, wants her to loosen up, _have fun and live a little_, and while Nyota maybe can’t change in big, long-term ways, she does try to accommodate Gaila in small, of-the-moment things. And to be honest, she usually doesn’t regret it – outside of one or two severe hangovers, maybe.

Besides, this assignment is supposed to take five days, so there will probably be plenty of stressful situations ahead. They should make their own fun when they have the chance. Nyota knows herself well enough to be sure that she’ll return to her _voice of reason_ persona soon enough.

Their descent down the dune goes faster than Nyota would have expected; the steep incline, slippery fabric and reduced gravity combining to make them pick up considerable speed.

“Incoming!” Gaila shouts her joy into the wind, and Nyota can’t help but shriek excitedly, too.

Very soon, they reach the end of the slope and crash into the backpacks already waiting below, rolling and falling over each other as they let go of the corners of the tarp.

They’re both lying on their backs at an angle, Nyota’s one leg trapped under Gaila’s body, Nyota’s lips crusted with sand, strands of her own hair caught in her mouth, and her ribcage heaving more with adrenaline than exertion.

She feels so stupidly happy, so alive, that she can’t help breaking out into a loud, raspy laugh. As she looks over to Gaila, her friend looks just as happy, more exuberant as always, her whole body moving with excited breaths and deep guffaws, her hair tousled and full of sand, and her smile so bright it makes something expand in Nyota’s chest.

Quickly, they get up and shake off the sand like dogs, still giggling.

Nyota gets her canteen and after a deep drink, she hands it over to Gaila: “Well deserved,” she says with a wink.

They follow the compass towards the rainforest and are making pretty good headway. Still, they start to ration what’s left of their water, trying to make it last. With the kind of limited data they have, a nasty surprise or unexpected obstacles might be waiting right behind the first row of trees.

Eventually, they reach the area where sand turns into vegetation. It’s not a straight line exactly, but it’s a narrow band, and it only takes a few hundred meters for their surroundings to change completely.

“This must be terraformed, right?” Nyota asks as she’s looking up the large, lush trees rising up in front of them, their trunks brown or green, their foliage yellow and purple with some colorful bulbs and blossoms dotting their branches.

Gaila hums. “Most likely,” she agrees as her eyes survey the thicket. “I mean, we don’t know much about the ground composition and water reservoir distribution, but this change in climate and vegetation does seem awfully abrupt.”

“Exactly.” It’s nice to know they’re on the same page.

“How likely is it that the instructors will make it rain just to mess with us?” Gaila looks up into the sky that looks a lot grayer from down here than it did from the dunes, although there’s no actual clouds in sight.

“Well, at least rain would help us with our water problem,” Nyota notes. The greenery is lush, yes, but there is no indication of surface water, no soggy ground beneath them or sound of a stream nearby.

“Seems like all these plants have very deep root systems, right?” Gaila says, kicking at a knobby, dry piece of exposed root. She rubs some dirt in her hand, and it hardly stains her fingers. “Not completely dry, but definitely not saturated with enough water for us to extract much from it.”

“Maybe we should turn the scanner back on,” Nyota suggests.

Gaila's head moves like she’s considering the idea. “Let’s hold off a little, if that’s okay. Rely on your compass for another twenty minutes, maybe we’ll find a clearing or even a pond or something.”

Twenty minutes later, they haven’t found anything of use in terms of water retrieval, although they must be getting closer to a well-irrigated area since the greenery seems to be getting lusher and more varied.

“Okay,” Gaila declares at the next flat spot of land. “Let’s do it.”

They set up the scanner and use a laser cutter to add some air vents to its housing. Additionally, they agree to only use it in short bursts to conserve energy.

Thankfully, it only takes them two bursts to locate a small stream of water, more of a trickle, running down a rockface about one click out from where they did their measurements. The water drips down so slowly that it takes them about fifteen minutes to fill up both canteens, and they use that time to pour over the data they saved, extrapolating a place not plagued by electromagnetic interference. Water is only a means to an end, after all, the real price is locating and reaching a spot where they’ll be able to get in touch with Starfleet.

“I wish we had more data,” Gaila grumbles. “Not from this location, I mean, from a different site. Something that would enable us to triangulate.” She makes a face at their packs. “If only we had the parts to make a drone, get some additional readings from further up and out.”

Nyota agrees in principle, but it’s useless dwelling on what they _don’t_ have. “Yeah, that would be great, but let’s work with what’s actually here.”

They map out their best bets and come up with three promising locations. One is less than ten clicks behind their water source, but annoyingly enough, the data reveals that the rocks are building up to a decent-sized mountain. Traversing that kind of terrain would definitely eat up more time than they have, so they discard the option.

Of course the two remaining destinations are in diametrically opposite directions. The one that’s closer also has unappealing weather and environmental readings further down the line, so it seems like they’ll have no choice but to go with option three.

“That would be quite a track, though.” Nyota feels a headache coming on and rubs her temples with two fingers in hopes of keeping it at bay. “Even if we make good time, we’ll be cutting it close. And that’s without factoring in time for food acquisition.”

She knows that they can survive without food for five days if they absolutely have to, but walking with a backpack in this heat and rising humidity is already taking a toll on her, and some kind of sustenance would definitely make her feel better.

“This rivulet,” Giala says, “it has to come from somewhere, right?” She points at the place where their canteens are still sitting.

Before Nyota can so much as agree, she’s already scrambling up, putting their only flashlight between her teeth and starting to climb the rockface.

“There were no readings in that area to indicate a significant water reservoir,” Nyota says loudly, but Gaila doesn’t even turn around.

Soon she’s out of sight, and Nyota can hear some rustling and branches breaking high overhead. After a few minutes, Gaila’s head is peeking out over rough stone, a bright smile on her face.

“There’s a tunnel system,” she shouts down excitedly. “Let’s check it out.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Nyota climbs up after her. “If we do this, I get the flashlight,” she says before she marches into the mouth of a beautifully curved cave, its location mostly hidden by vines.

They walk further inside, and as the rock closes in tight and tighter around them, swallowing up the natural light from outside, Nyota turns on the flashlight. The temperature drops, but not by much.

“Look at those colors!” Gaila whispers, excited.

The walls are shot through with what seems to be different types of quartz and traces of metal, colorful veins making beautiful swirling patterns that are shimmering in the near-dark, reflecting the beams of the light Nyota directs at them. “It’s so pretty.”

As for water, the little rivulet outside originates from a very small stream running along the middle of the tunnel. In contrast, most of the surface area seems completely dry to the point where some of the stone overhead looks almost porous, like pumice, while the rock underfoot is completely solid and a little rough, making it easier to walk and not lose their footing.

When they’ve been walking for a good ten minutes and there’s still no indication of where the tunnel might lead, they decide to turn around and get their scanner up here. Nyota theorizes that the metal sediments threw off their readings, but once the scanner is positioned inside the cave system itself and they’ve adjust for interference, the device should give them a better idea of what’s going on.

Turns out the caves are most likely a shortcut in the direction of the first location they identified as a possible endpoint. Instead of having to climb the mountain, which could have taken them anywhere between five to seven days, they’d probably be able to make it in less than two days by going under it.

The readings from here aren’t great as to what’s on the other side, but Nyota has to agree, together with their previous data, everything indicates that this is a risk worth taking.

Food first, though. Luckily, they’re on the same page in that regard, too, especially since they have no idea if there’s anything edible inside the caves. From their readings and the porous beauty of the walls, it doesn’t seem likely.

They find plenty of vegetation and even some fruit that look edible and use chemicals from their packs to make sure their new provisions aren’t toxic. Since their supplies include a mostly-complete medkit, they’ll be able to counteract minor adverse reactions, too, so they should be fine either way.

An egg-sized fruit that looks like a tiny, rindless watermelon tastes so aggressively sweet that Nyota almost spits it out, but Gaila seems to like it; and where there’s sweetness, there should be carbohydrates, which makes it a good candidate to take with them as provisions.

They collected some fleshy, bright-orange leaves that reminded them of the Aderola ferns Jakula, one of the other cadets on their dorm room floor, likes to bring everywhere to snack on. The flavor isn’t quite the same, but the leaves taste good enough, especially after Nyota sprinkles some salt on them.

“I can’t believe they left us with _condiments_ but no functioning tricorder.” Gaila shakes her head as she munches, quite happily, on another leaf.

“It’s to provide us with an opportunity to show our _growth, learning, resilience and resourcefulness_,” Nyota says in an imitation of instructor Sh'shihron’s voice that makes Gaila giggle.

They refill their canteens, collect some more fruit and leaves and make sure the one emergency tent included in their packs is in working order before they secure their bags, shoulder them and begin their trek.

“I’ve never actually been this deep inside a natural structure before,” Gaila says after a while. “I wish we had a handheld scanner or even just another flashlight.” Her voice has gone uncharacteristically quiet. It’s understandable, really: even the faintest light from the entrance behind them disappeared a while ago, and ahead of them, everything outside the reach of their tiny little light source is pitch black. “I’d be worried about energy conservation, obviously, but the further in we go, the creepier it gets,” she says in a cautious whisper.

That’s another side of Gaila not a lot of people know about: that she can get scared sometimes, isn’t always happy-go-lucky, and it feels almost like a badge of honor that she’d voice her doubts like that to Nyota instead of hoping she won’t notice.

Nyota reaches behind herself to take Gaila’s hand and squeeze it in reassurance. “We’ll be fine,” she says. “But you can have the flashlight, if you like.”

Gaila declines and they keep on walking.

Truth be told, Nyota isn’t in love with being underground this long either, but now that they’ve made their proverbial bed, they’ll have to lie in it. _The only way out is through._ Another thing her grandma used to say.

If their estimates aren’t off by too much, at least they won’t have to set up camp for more than one night inside these tunnels. The thought is not as comforting as Nyota wants it to be, and she tries not to think about the mountain overhead, about the immense volume of solid stone sealing them in like an ancient tomb.

Nyota scolds herself for her needlessly dramatic worries, but she can’t help thinking about her earlier hypothesis: if it’s true that the scanner didn’t initially pick up on these tunnels because of interference from mineral deposits in the rocks, that doesn’t bode well for a rescue mission in case anything goes wrong. Even if scanners were able to locate them through the awful signal-to-noise ratio, it’s questionable that a transporter beam would be able to lock on to them with any precision.

_Enough with the worst-case scenarios,_ Nyota decides and tries to focus on the beauty of their surroundings. Wherever she shines her light, there’s something interesting or even stunning to discover.

“Look, Gaila,” she throws over her shoulder, making her voice extra cheerful, “Have you ever seen something like this?” Nyota comes to a halt and waits for Gaila, who’s been staying very close, to come stand beside her before she moves the light up and down what almost looks like creamy white turrets speckled with glittering paint.

“It’s beautiful,” Gaila says as she takes Nyota’s hand. After a few silent moments, Nyota turns towards her friend. “Your turn with the flashlight.” This time Gaila takes it.

They make something of a game out of finding pretty patterns, weirdly formed pieces of stone or large splashes of metal sediment in unusual shapes.

After about three hours, the tunnel they’ve been following opens up into a large cave. It feels spacious and wide, and Nyota hears Gaila take in a deep breath just as she does the same. The air is only a little stale, which might be due to the stream of water that’s been steadily widening and has turned into a softly babbling brook by now. Nyota feels the hairs on her arms stand on end – it's markedly colder in here, too, she realizes.

Gaila guides the beam of light methodically along the walls, which seem smooth and porous in turn, like parts are made of fossilized sponges, and slowly, a fuller picture emerges in Nyota’s mind. It’s like something out of a fairy tale; like thousands and thousands of years ago, a river purposefully cut a big banquet hall into the stone.

Nyota is reminded of something her grandpa used to play on the piano. _In the Hall of the Mountain King._ She always loved that song. It’s pretty and playful, with just a hint of creepiness or mischief, like a nosy child enjoying herself tip-toeing around a beautiful place she’s not supposed to be.

Eventually, the big hall around them comes to an end, but soon the tunnel opens up again into another, smaller cave. Just as they pass the entrance, there’s a tickling sensation on the bridge of Nyota’s nose, and before she can make sense of it, something soft and dusty starts raining down on them.

Nyota jumps and almost loses her footing. She doesn’t scream, but it’s a close call. Right in front of her, Gaila’s breathing is almost as loud as her own. The flashlight in Gaila’s hand moves frantically up and down, and whatever's been drizzling down on them catches the light and refracts it in an iridescent blue that Nyota would describe as otherworldly and beautiful if she weren’t so freaked out right now.

A prickling sensation sweeps along her skin wherever the stuff touches her. It’s like gossamer or maybe spiderwebs, and Nyota tries to wipe it from her face and arms with both hands. She sees Gaila do the same, but in a more composed, almost calm fashion. After her earlier bout of the creeps, Nyota is surprised – and glad, mostly – that Gaila isn’t throwing a screaming fit.

“Spores,” Gaila says with a small laugh, “it’s just spores. Don’t worry about it too much.”

“But what if they’re deadly spores?” Nyota says, and she’s only half joking.

“I took this elective in high school, you know. It’s been a while, but I’m sure this looks similar to several species we worked with, all of them completely benign. Otherwise our teacher would have gotten in big trouble, I’m sure.” Gaila moves closer and strokes along Nyota’s elbow, just beneath the hem of her short-sleeved uniform shirt, and the gentle touch calms Nyota down.

“But if it makes you feel better, we can take a general preventative cocktail from our medkit to be on the safe side,” Gaila says, her hand pressing reassuringly against Nyota’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Nyota replies, putting her palm on top of where Gaila’s hand is touching her, a natural movement, completed without conscious thought. “If you’re sure it’s not dangerous, we can save those doses for later. Just in case.”

“No.” Gaila inclines her head and purses her lips in a way that looks cute even in the shadows. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right. Better safe than sorry.”

It might just be the limited amount of light, but there’s a soft expression in her eyes that makes it very hard for Nyota to look away.

When Gaila turns to take off her backpack and look for the meds, a chill seems to spread out from where her palm used to be.

They keep moving, their hands finding each other, a warm comfort in the seemingly unending dark.

As they walk, Nyota becomes gradually more aware of the reality of Gaila in front of her. The shadows of her movements, strength and grace visible even while she’s carrying a heavy pack full of gear. The flickering shine of red curls falling down around her neck. The warmth that seems to radiate from her, not just where their hands touch, like there’s a light insight of her, something bright that always wants to reach out and connect.

Nyota’s never been quick to make friends, but with Gaila, it had been easy, almost effortless.

They continue their little game, and somehow, every time one of them notices something especially beautiful and shows it to the other, they end up closer, putting their heads together to whisper about gorgeous little nooks of glittering stone and abstract swirls of color that look like dancing fairies.

“I’m cold and hungry and tired.” Nyota hears herself say the words, and in the back of her head, she notes that it’s very unusual for her to be the first to admit that she could use a break. She’s usually too competitive, doesn’t like to show signs of weakness, no matter how small or human they might be. Then again, it’s just her and Gaila here, her and her best friend, one of the very few people around whom Nyota can allow herself to let her guard down. Occasionally.

Gaila lets out a deep breath. “Me, too,” she says. “How about we set up for the night as soon as we find a bit more space?”

“Good plan.” Nyota tightens her grip around Gaila’s hand in agreement.

It’s less than ten minutes before they reach a chamber that’s about the size of their dorm room. Their rivulet-turned-brook has gotten steadily broader, but there’s still plenty of space for them to set up their tent without the risk of getting it wet.

“I don’t like how much the temperature’s changed and how wide the stream has become,” Gaila says as she’s getting some food and condiments out. “I underestimated the cold, I hope I didn’t underestimate how wet things might get down here, too.”

Her voice is subdued, traces of worry in it, and it’s a little unusual. Gaila is much more likely to focus on the bright side, to not address problems that cannot be helped right that moment.

Nyota wants to reassure her, tell her that it’s alright, but the words coming out of her mouth are different. “I was thinking the same thing. Especially without a heat source and only one flashlight.”

“Sorry,” Gaila says quietly. “I shouldn’t have made you take the shortcut.”

“It was a joint decision,” Nyota says, and it’s the truth. Gaila is persuasive, yes, but Nyota has always been able to stand her ground when she really didn’t want to go along. “I think I was too enamored with the idea of a shortcut, of maybe finishing a day early, besting the assignment.” It’s more truth than she’d say out loud in the daylight, but it’s different down here, beneath all that rock. “And I probably put too much trust in the scanner we built.”

“Yeah, that, too.” Gaila huffs a laugh. “I don’t think the readings were off by that much, but with the different climatic conditions in here and once we’re stationary, a few degrees colder can make a big difference.”

“True,” Nyota agrees. “After the damp heat outside, we were probably too eager for a cool down.”

Gaila’s finished making a nest out of the tarp, mesh material and sole sleeping bag inside the tent, and Nyota is thankful for the set-up. The air does feel chillier ever since they’ve stopped moving, and pulling up the tent's zipper gives her hope that they'll be able to conserve some of their body heat.

They dig into their meager provisions and drink from a shared canteen, and since they have no heat source (artificial or otherwise), it only makes sense to stay together as much as they can.

When Gaila puts her arm around Nyota and drapes the emergency blanket from their medkit around both of them, it feels good - and warmer than it objectively should.

“I wish we were in our dorm right now and could cuddle up in a nice, soft bed,” Nyota says, her head leaning on Gaila’s shoulder and her lids half-closed. She’s so tired.

“Sounds good,” Gaila says around a yawn. “You always look so cute and cozy when you wrap yourself up in that quilt your father made you.” Nyota can’t have mentioned more than once that her baba made her that blanket, and it’s nice to know Gaila remembers.

“Imagine how much cozier it would be if we’d be wrapped up in it together,” Nyota says, the words almost like in a dream, her eyes sliding completely shut for a second.

It’s such a nice thought: Gaila’s arm around her, their bodies pressed close. Maybe a kiss. Maybe a caress. Maybe clothes on the floor. Maybe breaths getting heavy.

Everything about the idea feels good, and it takes Nyota’s brain a while to catch up to what she might have implied with her words, what she definitely made of those words in her own mind.

Good thing Gaila is exhausted, too, snuggled in close against Nyota’s side, too tired to have noticed her slip-up.

Nyota always knew Gaila was gorgeous, of course. It’s an indisputable fact. And she’s learned fairly quickly that, in spite of the happy-go-lucky façade Gaila cultivates among their fellow cadets, she’s also smart and funny; that she manages to combine ambitious and happy and laid-back in a way Nyota never could.

Nyota herself is always wound too tight, and Gaila is one of the few people she can let herself relax around, where she can show some of her doubts and weaknesses. Even within the bounds of their close friendship, that sometimes scares Nyota a little. She’s never been very good at letting people in, and the last time she did, it didn’t turn out too well. So now she’s always worried that she might want too much, might _be_ too much, that she’ll get too caught up in her feelings once she does let go.

If she’s completely honest, her last failed relationship was the main reason she instated her no-relationships-while-in-school policy. First she needed to heal, then she needed to not make the same mistakes all over again. It’s served her well overall. Maybe especially with regards to Gaila.

Nyota doesn’t usually allow herself to, but right now Gaila is all she wants to think about. Actually, she wants to do a lot more than just thinking, and it takes a lot of effort to stop the movement of her hand that’s been absently stroking along Gaila’s waist, takes even more effort to pull that hand away.

She really needs to get a grip. She definitely needs sleep, so she gives Gaila’s shoulder a light shake and tries not to be taken in by the adorably dazed look on her friend’s face.

“Come on, sleepyhead, we need to get our beds ready,” Nyota says, and if she can’t help stroking Gaila’s cheek as she says the words, maybe that’s just as well.

They agreed earlier that Gaila would make due with the mesh, tarp and emergency blanket for the night while Nyota gets the sleeping bag. They both know that Gaila runs quite a bit hotter than Nyota from a few disagreements over the climate control settings in their dorm room, so Nyota had agreed on Gaila’s insistence. Now it seems like an unfair solution, and Nyota tries to sell Gaila on using the sleeping bag as a blanket for both of them.

“No way,” Gaila says, surprisingly forceful for how drowsy she seems. “I know how cold you get. I want you to be as comfy as possible.” She gives Nyota a soft smile before she seems to straighten her shoulders and adds, “Besides, the shortcut was my idea, so it’s the least I can do.”

They’re both about to keel over either way, so Nyota doesn’t argue as much as she wants to.

As soon as they’re bundled up in their separate sleeping arrangements, Nyota turns off the flashlight. She still has the urge to reach out and touch Gaila, but is thwarted – thankfully – by the cocoon of fabric around her. Even more thankfully, she’s so exhausted she falls asleep almost immediately.

When Nyota wakes up, it’s not because she’s well-rested, but because she’s cold. She’s not sure how long she’s been asleep, but it probably hasn’t been more than a few hours. After she wiggles her toes and fingers against the unpleasant chill, her thoughts turn to Gaila.

If Nyota’s cold inside the sleeping bag, how must Gaila feel?

“Are you awake?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” Gaila’s voice comes from farther away than expected.

“Are you cold?” Without meaning to, she adds, “I’m worried about you.”

“Pretty cold,” Gaila says. “But it’s all right. Go back to sleep,” she tacks on quickly, but Nyota isn’t having it.

“I’m cold, too,” she replies. “Come on over, we can huddle for warmth.”

“You really don’t have to,” Gaila says, but there seems to be little conviction behind her words.

“I want to,” Nyota insists, and the statement is so true it almost hurts.

They try and rearrange themselves, which is not easy inside a small tent in complete darkness, but turning on the light might wake them up for good, so Nyota would rather not.

Eventually, they manage to put the tarp and mesh beneath themselves as insulation against the cold seeping in from the ground and layer the zipped-open sleeping bag on top of the emergency blanket, trying to cover them both, arms pressed tight against each other as they tuck some of the material beneath their bodies to keep the warmth in.

It’s both working and isn’t. On the one hand, Nyota’s limbs are definitely a little colder than before, but on the other, there’s an almost unnatural heat spreading out from where their bodies touch, not just skin-on-skin, but like she can feel Gaila’s warmth through the fabric of both their clothes.

And there’s that awareness again, of the sound of Gaila breathing so close, of the smell of her hair and her sweat, of the way the pressure against Nyota’s side shifts with every small movement Gaila makes. It feels undeniable, like an amplifier, making her body run hot even as her limbs cool down, sending heat to her chest specifically, to the place between her thighs.

But she shouldn’t be thinking about that. She can’t be thinking about that. Can’t be asking herself if Gaila might feel the same, if Gaila notices Nyota’s breathing picking up, if she can feel the heat coming off of Nyota’s cheeks and neck, off her lips that feel too full, almost swollen all of a sudden.

These are ridiculous thoughts, Nyota knows. It’s all in her head. Even if her desire has made her pulse spike, it wouldn’t be noticeable, not without direct contact, without Gaila touching her face, her neck, her mouth.

And Gaila’s so close. Nyota knows Gaila’s body would feel so good on top of her. She knows that if she just had the chance to wind her arms around her friend, if she could kiss her and grind up into her, she could get their blood pumping, could get them both warm, _hot_, could make them feel so good.

She should keep trying to push those thoughts away, should think about long-term ramifications, about how this could change and strain their friendship. She should think about all the ways this could go wrong, even if Gaila is interested, which something deep inside Nyota tells her she might be.

A strange recklessness, barely tempered by her deeply-ingrained caution, makes her turn towards Gaila.

“I’m still cold,” she says.

Gaila’s breath hitches audibly in the complete, all-encompassing darkness.

“Me, too,” she replies slowly, not a rebuke.

Nyota hopes Gaila will continue, will say something, anything, but she doesn’t, and the last note of her reply dissolves in the air between them.

It’s not smart to say what she wants to say, and Nyota knows that when she does, when they do what she’s about to propose, things won’t stay platonic, no matter how much she tries to tell herself that.

“This doesn’t work,” she says, making her voice sound matter-of-fact, although she knows she won’t be able to keep it up for long. “Sleeping bags are designed like they are for a reason.”

Before she can backtrack, she adds, “Let’s zip this back up and get inside together. It’ll be a tight fit, but if one barrel-chested Telluride can fit in these standard-issues, the two of us together should manage, too.”

She swallows. “It’s the most efficient way.” It feels like a lie; an exciting, exhilarating lie.

Gaila makes a noise of assent that shakes something loose inside Nyota, and for a moment, she’s afraid to move, feels like the only possible action she could take would be to seize Gaila in her arms and devour her mouth in a kiss, but then she gathers her last shreds of self-control, pulls at the fabric of the sleeping bag and starts zipping it up.

“Speaking of efficiency,” Gaila says, so very close, her voice tentative, something Nyota hasn’t really heard before, “we should probably strip.”

Nyota’s breath catches at the last word, at the implications, at the crystal-clear image of Gaila, naked and gorgeous, rising in her mind.

“To our underwear, I mean,” Gaila adds and Nyota can’t read the tone in her voice at all.

“Yeah,” she replies, and it comes out on a gasp. “That makes sense.”

They feel so much more in tune after that, quickly taking off their clothes, and just as Nyota starts wriggling into the half-zipped sleeping bag, Gaila asks, “Little spoon or big spoon?” Her tone is so husky it goes straight to Nyota’s core.

Either option is delicious, either option is dangerous. Neither seems enough.

Her hand finds Gaila’s arm in the dark, travels up to her face and cups it. Nyota moves in close, but not all the way. They should be quick about this, not let any more heat escape, but this is a shot she has to take, no matter how much the danger sense in the back of her skull tries to warn her off.

“It’s not just me, right?” she asks, the cold of the cave inconsequential in comparison to the searing heat where her palm presses against Gaila’s skin.

“No,” Gaila whispers.

Nyota bridges the space between them and kisses her. There’s a deep carnal pull inside of her, but she keeps it brief, a confirmation of what they both mean, but not the real deal yet. Holding off until they are ensconced safely inside the sleeping bag.

“Like this, then,” she says and helps Gaila inside, pulling up the zipper around them.

And then they’re sharing the same sleeping bag, facing each other in darkness that won’t let them see, their legs tangling instantly and their bodies so close that their breasts are pressed against each other, that Nyota can feel the hard nubs of Gaila’s nipples against her flesh.

Gaila’s one arm slides under Nyota’s head and the other comes to rest on her waist, and it’s warm and comforting and electric all at once.

The complete and utter dark around them seems to intensify everything, the sound of Nyota’s own pulse beating against the touch of Gaila’s skin, of Gaila’s chest moving in and out against hers, of Gaila’s hot breath on her lips as her friend, her roommate, moves in.

Nyota’s just tasted Gaila’s lips for the first time, but it’s different now. They’re wet and open and full, Gaila’s tongue sliding out almost instantly, like she can’t wait to taste Nyota, too. Soon she’s licking deep into Nyota’s mouth, learning, exploring, as hums and moans start to vibrate between them.

It’s good, it’s hot, but it doesn’t satiate Nyota, only makes her hungry for more, makes her take Gaila’s face into her hands, take control of the kiss, map out Gaila’s mouth with her own tongue, delighted by the whimpers that catch deep in Gaila’s throat when her tongue travels wide and deep.

Gaila’s so responsive, so eager, her arm a hot band around Nyota’s waist, fingers tracing the muscles in her back before going lower, stroking over the fabric of her underwear, rubbing across Nyota’s ass in a way that makes her hips grind and stutter.

Everything’s constrained by the fabric around them, everything’s too tight, and the sweat of need and arousal starts slicking up their bodies, turns their breaths into warm, unseen fog.

Nyota can’t help herself – even as she can’t stop kissing Gaila, as she can’t stop licking and biting at her mouth, tracing the outline of her swollen, spit-slick lips with one thumb – her other hand slides lower, cups the weight of one of Gaila’s perfect breasts, the lace details of her bra in the way of feeling their full swell and softness.

“Damn, you’re perfect,” Nyota gasps into Gaila’s mouth and her hand slips inside Gaila’s bra, where her skin is smooth and supple and her nipple puckered. Nyota’s thumb rubs across its peak and she feels a sense of satisfaction when Gaila makes a high sound of pleasure-pain.

“I want to kiss your breasts, suck and bite and soothe them,” Nyota whispers between kisses, delighted with the way Gaila’s body reacts, the way she presses in, rubs herself against Nyota, like she’s losing herself in an old, sensual rhythm.

“But then I’d have to stop kissing you,” Nyota continues and deepens the kiss again, really making it count, ferocious and hungry. She’s not a talker, usually, but it’s like there is so much want and desire coursing through her that she can’t just express it through action, that she needs to say the words, fill the space around them with the truth of her desire.

She nudges Gaila’s thighs apart with her knee, her fingers moving restlessly in the barely-there space between their bodies, greedy to feel the whole reality of Gaila’s skin, to give back the pleasure that’s taking hold of her in a crushing wave.

Soon, the last vestiges of coherence fall away until all that’s left is gasps and moans growing loud and louder, undeniable, until the sound must travel beyond the confines of their tent, must reverberate in the cave around them.

\--

They wake up wrapped around each other, warm and well rested, and this time, Nyota does turn on the light.

The trace of doubt that colors her mind is swept away by Gaila’s drowsy smile when her eyes blink open, by the way she smooths Nyota’s hair away from her face as she murmurs, “Good morning,” by the way her touch lingers as she presses a soft kiss to the corner of Nyota’s mouth before she pulls their – shockingly cold – clothes into the sleeping bag to try and tug them on before she braves the world beyond.

As soon as Nyota is up and about, she realizes that at least some of that temperature drop she felt last night must have been due to exhaustion since she’s warmer and more comfortable than she’d expected.

They have a quick breakfast that doesn’t leave them with much in terms of provisions, pack up their gear and get going.

Their conversation doesn’t change much from what they talked about yesterday, from what they talked about _before, _but Nyota still feels drawn to Gaila more urgently than she usually does, the pull different from the feeling she’s become so used to ignoring or channeling into a friendly pat on the back or (if she dares because they’ve both had something to drink) maybe a hug, and she finds herself giving in without thought, reaching for Gaila’s hand, even stealing a kiss or two.

Gaila keeps touching her, too, so the feeling seems to be mutual, even if it’s much less urgent than it was yesterday, than it was last night …

After sharing the last fruit and plant leaves for their lunch break, things start to change again, even though Nyota doesn’t notice at first.

There are no more quick kisses and eventually, their hands stop reaching out to find each other. Nyota becomes aware of the shift and realizes that it’s probably for the best, that it’s like they’re synching up in a different way, preparing themselves for their return to the outside world, where whatever happened here will fade, will no longer be real.

Both of them keep talking, though, like they’re determined to not let the silence linger, pointing out beautiful features in the caves and tunnels they walk through, more interesting shapes and unreal colors, new flecks of metal that look like an artist applied them with expert strokes. There might be a forced note in their voices, but it’s much better than_ not _talking, like each of them wants to reassure the other that the lines of communication will stay open between them, that what happened won’t change things.

Eventually, there’s a glimmer of light at the far end of the tunnel, and they’re both relieved, excited, almost skipping a step here and there in their hurry to get out into the real world. To get away from this night they’re about to turn into a secret.

Nyota can’t bring herself to regret it, not yet, but there’s a coil inside her stomach winding tight, weighing her down, and she reminds herself that nothing they did has to mean anything. Whatever happened, it’s not how or who they are. Not in the bright light of day.

They’re friends. Best friends. That’s rare, especially for someone like Nyota, who can be stubborn and closed off. Their friendship a gift. One worth holding on to.

As they reach the exit point where it’s warm, the sun reflecting more of the beautiful ores and sediments in the tunnel walls than their measly flashlight ever could, Nyota feels like the light is burning away a part of her the darkness had called forth, a part that wants to be carefree, that wants to connect, throw caution to the wind. A part that just wanted to be close to Gaila, to kiss and touch her and be happy.

With every step in the bright light of day, Nyota feels more like herself again; her considerate, cautious self.

It’s better this way.

After a few paces, the ground in front of them drops off a good thirty meters. The incline is perilously steep, and they briefly consider trying to fashion some kind of abseiling gear from what they have in their packs, but since there are so many sturdy-looking exposed roots, thick knots of lianas and seemingly solid tree trunks on the way down, they decide against it.

“Worst case, one of us loses their grip,” Gaila says in a surprisingly cheerful tone that starts making more sense when she adds, “and their fall is immediately broken by shrubbery and vines. There’s no way we’d fall more than one meter before getting tangled up in all these plants.”

Looking down at the continuous thicket, Nyota agrees she has a point.

They’re both hard at work on the way down, especially since having the packs strapped to their backs messes with their range and sense of balance. All in all, it takes them about forty minutes to make it down the cliff, but they do manage without any major mishaps.

Once they’re at the foot of the mountain, Gaila takes off her backpack and stretches her arms, tilting her face up at the sun, her body strong and limber and perfect.

Nyota makes herself look away from the curve of Gaila’s neck, from the blissful smile and closed eyes as her friend lets the sun warm her face.

Taking off her own backpack, Nyota wipes her forehead, shakes out her shoulders and stretches her limbs in a way that probably looks much less fluid and graceful than Gaila’s.

It does feel good to be out in daylight again, to hear the rustling sounds of the forest, to have a light breeze ruffling her hair, everything so different from the still, cool air inside the closed-off world of the tunnels.

“Good thing we made it out before nightfall,” Nyota says, and it comes out awkward.

Gaila smiles – knowingly, perhaps – and nods.

They keep moving while the two suns above them slowly make their way towards the invisible horizon, foraging for food as they go. When the first sun has set, they stop for the night at the next clearing, arranging rocks in a circle to start a fire and roast some of the colorful leaves they’ve gathered. A small pond nearby provides them with water, and while they drink and chew, they decide to forego the stuffiness of the tent tonight. The air here is warm and humid, and with dense vegetation like this, it probably won’t cool off much during the night. Sleeping out in the open should be the more comfortable choice.

After the second sun has set, they lie down by the fire, trying to fall asleep.

Nyota insisted on Gaila taking the sleeping bag this time, while she made her bed from the tarp, mesh and emergency blanket. Truth is Nyota doesn’t want to be reminded of what exactly they did in that sleeping bag last night, and she’s glad Gaila doesn’t protest.

When Nyota folds the mesh into a pillow and pushes it under the side of her head, there’s a familiar smell wafting up. Gaila. Her own scent, too, maybe. She tries to tell herself that it’s only in her head, but then her thoughts turn to the sleeping bag. The one they shared for an entire night. The one they made each other moan and gasp and sweat in. The one Gaila is currently lying on.

It _must_ smell of them, of what they did; what they pretend didn’t happen, what they pretend not to think about.

Nyota’s face burns with the force of irrational feelings: arousal, shame, embarrassment and more; things she cannot fully articulate. She wants to apologize, she wants to run, she wants to make the whole thing go away somehow but forces herself to stay still, to keep her eyes closed and her mouth shut.

The fire between them is almost out when Gaila starts speaking. Her tone is soft, friendly and soothing, and somehow, it sounds like she might not be talking to Nyota at all.

“I thought about what happened yesterday night.”

There it is. Nyota wonders if it really was the smell that triggered the statement. If it’s made Gaila’s mind go back to what happened, helpless to stop the memories, compelled to reiterate every sound, every sensation, every emotion in her mind.

Gaila takes a deep breath. “And I think it might have been the spores.”

Nyota can’t speak. It felt so natural to touch Gaila like this, like a secret that she had kept from herself, but that had felt good to let out into the open.

She shakes her head. That’s nonsense. She’s much too rational for foolish thoughts like this.

“I forgot about it, I really did,” Gaila says and there’s a small crack in her voice before it smooths out. “But in the additional reading for that high-school course, I’ve read about this fungus on Banta, I think – it was such a long time ago – that makes people crave connection and physical touch. It becomes this overpowering,” she swallows so loud it’s audible, “this_ need_ if they don’t obey the call.” It sounds like she’s done, but then she adds, “It’s outside of the control of those who are affected.”

Nyota lies very still.

They’re on an foreign planet, in an unfamiliar environment. They were exposed to a type of spore they couldn’t identify and experienced previously-document side effects of spore exposure. It’s plausible.

“I don’t regret what happened,” Gaila says, “even if you do. But I’m sorry I didn’t take your concerns more seriously when the spores rained down on us.” There’s a brief pause. “Maybe we could have fought it if we’d known it was happening.”

Nyota knows she has to react, say something, but she doesn’t know how, doesn’t know what.

“I don’t regret it,” she blurts out, then tacks on a more reasonable, measured, “You couldn’t have known.”

Her head is spinning with possibilities, with things she’d rather say. There’s an ache that’s burrowing somewhere inside her ribcage, like there’s this spot that’s both empty and stuffed too full. Like, even as she denied it, she had harbored a little piece of hope that what had happened had been real, had been the expression of a deeper bond between them, a deeper truth.

But no, Nyota pulls herself together. This is good. A logical explanation. _Plausible deniability_, she can’t help thinking. She’s good at keeping her emotions in check, she will get over this. She’s strong.

“Just,” Gaila continues, “I don’t want it to affect our friendship. It means too much to me.”

“It won’t,” Nyota says quickly, assuring both her friend and herself. “The only thing that could hurt our friendship is getting a failing grade on this assignment.”

The joke doesn’t quite land, but with a moment’s delay, Gaila laughs anyway.

\--

The next day, while they’re busy packing up their stuff, Gaila asks, “We’re good?”

Nyota makes herself smile, even as she can’t seem to look up from securing the strap on her pack. “We’re good.”

As soon as they’ve reached an elevated spot, they decide to use the scanner. Energy preservation is a priority, sure, but with such primitive, jerry-rigged equipment, their readings from the other side of the mountain might be way off by now, especially with interference from the ores and metals embedded in the rock.

Their new readings do show some deviations, but it’s all within an acceptable margin of error, even if it’s more than either of them would like.

The data helps them identify two viable options for trying to contact Starfleet. At first glance, there’s not much of a difference, and both should be about two days from their current location. Gaila voices her suspicion that one of them could be a red herring, that they should have identified some way to rule out one possibility.

“Don’t forget: the assignment explicitly states that there are five possible points of contact, one for each group,” Nyota reasons with her. “One of the locations is probably intended for another group. There shouldn’t be much difference either way.”

Gaila nods along, but still doesn’t seem to like what Nyota’s saying. “The readings have changed too much. It doesn’t give me much confidence in our equipment.” She gestures at their improvised, bulky scanner. “We’re assuming the high concentration of metal sediments combined with the electromagnetic interference mentioned in the assignment explain these deviations, but what if we’re wrong? What if we made a mistake when we put the thing together or when we set up the scanning array or during read-out?”

Gaila’s points aren’t wrong, per se, it’s just that they’re so theoretical as to be dismissible. This is a survival situation, and in reality, there is no way to make perfect decisions. All you can do is be diligent and do the best you can with limited, imperfect information. It’s another thing this course tried to teach them. One of the few lessons both of them have struggled with.

She tells Gaila as much, and her friend grudgingly agrees, clearly struggling to fully let her doubts go.

Nyota knows that many of their classmates see her as too high-strung, a perfections and control freak. They’re right, sure, but what they fail to recognize is how this is something Gaila and her have in common.

It’s no accident that Gaila was the only second-year cadet invited to work on the Kobayashi-Maru simulation with Spock’s team. Gaila manages to hide her exceedingly high standards beneath a veneer of easygoing, affable charm, and usually, she’s so well-prepared and mentally ahead of any in-class argument that she can afford to indulge a few ill-considered points before swooping in, posing a seemingly nonchalant question to implode them. Their instructors notice, even if their classmates don’t always do.

But here, with their final grade and standing at the academy on the line, Nyota can all but see how even the possibility of failure makes Gaila twitchy. She likes to think it’s a function of how well they know each other, both in terms of her being able to read Gaila and in terms of Gaila letting her guard down around Nyota because they’re friends, because she wants Nyota to know all of her, not just the fun-loving persona that most people get to see.

She has to stop thinking like this, Nyota tells herself. They’re in the middle of an exam, that’s what she should be focusing on. These thoughts are dangerous. They’re roommates, they’re friends, of course Nyota knows Gaila better than some random people in class; of course Gaila acts more naturally around her. It doesn’t have to mean anything more.

After half a day's treck on the revised route, they set up their equipment for a quick burst scan to confirm their location, and hopefully put both their minds at ease about their device's accuracy.

The readings are off again.

“Damn this useless heap of scrap metal,” Gaila curses under her breath. “How are we supposed to arrive at our destination when we can’t get a positive lock on its location?”

Nyota wants to be the one to stay calm and reasonable, assure her they’re on the right track, but Gaila’s concerns are getting to her, too. The readings are consistent enough for them to keep going, Nyota’s almost sure, but deviations are significantly higher than she’d like, and they have less than three days for a hike that should take them a good two-and-a-half days - according to imperfect data, so they have to factor in a buffer of a few extra hours. Neither of them wants to cut things close like this towards the finish line.

“If only we had more data. A drone or even just a tiny radio station off far enough for us to start triangulation, hone in on the location with more accuracy,” Gaila grumbles. Nyota knows this kind of wishful thinking is part of Gaila’s process sometimes, but right now it only makes her antsier to have Gaila come up with solutions that have no basis in reality.

“You’re right,” Nyota begins, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, “but it’s pointless to think about. We don’t have the parts to make anything fly higher than we can throw it, and there's no sign of any additional data source. No radio station. No natural phenomena deflecting signals.” Her hand cuts horizontally through the air to emphasize her point. “Nothing.”

Nyota hopes the second option impresses upon Gaila how hard she’s been trying to think outside the box, too; that she considered something as outlandish as exploiting naturally occurring phenomena for some crude version of echolocation.

“We’d need a man-made structure.” Her voice comes out gentler, her empathy for Gaila’s frustration seeping in. “This place doesn’t even have mammals, let alone intelligent life. The only humanoids out there are our classmates, and we have no idea where they are.”

Gaila huffs and shakes her head, but when she starts packing up the scanning array, Nyota knows she’s won the argument. They’ll keep moving, try and make good enough time to be able to compensate for the inaccuracy of their readings. Nyota walks over to help with packing.

Out of nowhere, Gaila jolts, turns around, and for a moment it seems like she’s about to give Nyota a hug, but then she shoots her a blinding smile instead. “You’re a genius.”

“What?” Nyota asks, taken aback.

“Of course I am,” she adds weakly. She has no idea what’s going on.

“I mean it,” Gaila insists, letting herself fall onto the ground into a cross-legged position.

“The padd, Nyota. That’s it.” She pulls the item in question from her backpack. “Every group got a padd, so every group has a means of long-range communication.” She waves the device over her head in triumph. “If we communicate with the other groups, pool our resources, we’ll be able to triangulate the location, get much more accurate data. It’s perfect.”

Nyota feels a reflexive resistance to not playing by the rules, but when she goes through the wording of their assignment, there is no instruction Gaila’s idea is violating. Bending the rules is not the same as breaking them, Nyota reminds herself, and improvisation is one of the most useful skills when it comes to deep-space missions, first contact and exploration.

“Better work quick then,” she says as she sits down next to Gaila.

This new strategy is risky, too, and they both know it. Recalibrating the long-range comm module will take time, and once they’ve sent out the signal, they’ll have to give the others time to respond. They’ll also have to figure out how to sync and transfer their readings once communication is established. And, of course, all of this will eat up a chunk of time they don’t really have to spare.

“Okay,” Nyota says. “Do you think you can trigger the holographic module to get their attention?”

“Hmm,” Gaila hums, her fingers already flying over the interface. “I’m not sure. Maybe I can get it to vibrate.”

“Good idea. You figure it out while I use that input module we weren’t sure we’d need to make a list of the tech we have.” She rummages through Gaila’s pack to find it. “Maybe each team’s gotten different equipment. There might be synergies.”

Gaila smiles at her briefly, then goes back to hacking the padd’s programming.

It feels good, easy, how well they work together, and it makes Nyota think that things between them might really be okay, that they can still be what they were before. Gaila is one of only a few close friends Nyota’s cultivated over the years, and Nyota doesn’t want to lose this effortless camaraderie, this comfortable closeness.

Gaila does find the activation sequence for the holographic emitters, and while they can’t change the standard message, it should be enough to catch the others’ attention.

Thankfully, Team Beta answers right away, confirming that Gaila’s new subroutines worked. It takes the other teams a little longer to reply, but soon enough, they’re typing back-and-forth furiously, catching each other up and swapping out equipment lists.

Overall, the tech doesn’t vary by much, and their basic scanning abilities are about the same, but there are a few crucial differences.

Team Epsilon’s computational module is much more sophisticated than everyone else’s, so all groups send over their raw data for consolidation and processing. Epsilon then passes the streamlined inputs on to Team Alpha, whose superior mapping software should be able to find more reliable routes for each team.

Energy consumption is a concern for all of them, so they agree to communicate in four-hour intervals and only do re-scans in case something seems to have gone wrong.

Turns out there’s one access point all teams should be able to reach within two days or less, which would be more than a day ahead of their deadline. The limited terrain data available is promising, and there’s intermittent water sources on all routes, which is a main priority.

The access point is also neither of the locations Gaila and Uhura pin-pointed before.

“Are you sure they’ve done it right?” Nyota can’t help asking, tracking right behind Gaila through muddy undergrowth.

What she really wants to ask if one of the other teams might be setting them up, if teams Alpha and/or Epsilon might take advantage of having everyone else’s data, trying to lead them astray so they can finish first. It’s a petty, small-minded way of thinking, but Nyota’s been burned before, and sometimes she has trouble fully trusting people she doesn’t know very well.

“I’m pretty sure.” Gaila assures her. “I’ve worked with Glaynork before, they’re an excellent scientist, very conscientious. Almost as good as you.” She throws a wink over her shoulder and continues. “And we’re Starfleet. Collaboration is kind of our thing.”

Her voice changes from casual to more serious. “I can’t imagine our instructors looking kindly on anyone pulling this kind of stunt, especially in a scenario where extended exposure means certain death.” It’s telling how Gaila answers not just the question Nyota actually asked, but the one underneath, the one she’s too ashamed to fully articulate. It eases her concerns in a way that only a few people know how to do.

And they’re all good points, too, so she should be satisfied, but there’s this prickling, this sense of uncertainty or doubt she cannot fully shake.

Gaila seems to sense that, too. “On a completely unrelated note,” she says with a curious lilt in her voice, “while you refilled the canteens and foraged for food, I did a quick burst-scan of the area around the new coordinates, and once I knew what to look for, the data made sense. I couldn’t narrow it down beyond a ten-kilometer radius, but if they’re scamming us, they’re still sending us in the right direction.” Nyota feels her mouth widen into a smile that eventually turns into straight-up laughter.

It’s like Nyota’s reaction is spurring Gaila on: “I had them send a map with terrain details, too. That would have been difficult to forge, especially without notice. Almost impossible.”

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Nyota says through laughter.

Gaila is more conscientious than she lets on, yes, but Nyota is pretty sure she wouldn’t have gone to these lengths if not for Nyota. It makes that familiar warmth bloom in her chest, unfurl like a hand that wants to reach out.

Friendship, Nyota reminds herself. Friendship is special and rare and she doesn’t want to risk muddling it with more. Too many variables, too many things that can go wrong. Nyota has slept with friends before. She’s been in relationships with friends before, good friends. She’s not in touch with either of them anymore.

She doesn’t want to lose Gaila like that. Nyota wants her to stay part of her life, doesn’t want them to drift apart after the academy. She needs this to last; which makes the status quo the best option, the safe choice, the one where she gets to keep her friend.

They make good time overall, and when a localized wind storm gets in the way of Team Gamma’s original route, they chip in with a partial re-scan to figure out an alternative course for them.

Unfortunately, that scan eats up more energy than they’d anticipated, and they lose power a few kilometers before they’re supposed to reach their destination. The earlier scan Gaila did to put Nyota’s mind at ease definitely had something to do with it, too, Nyota thinks guiltily.

It makes them both prickly to be cut off like this, to have no means of communication and no scanner, but thankfully Gaila has the rest of their route memorized, and Nyota’s compass helps keep them on track.

They should be close, about one click out from their meeting point, but there’s a grove of tall trees in the way, obstructing their view.

“I almost want to run”, Gaila admits. “I’m so nervous and excited.”

“No harm in picking up the pace a little,” Nyota says and falls into a light jog, Gaila joining right in. With groundcover and roots everywhere, it’s a bit of a risk. They could stumble and fall and hurt themselves, but they’re both too antsy to care.

Within minutes, the trees open up into a clearing. A clearing where two of the other teams are already waiting for them. Gamma and Epsilon.

It’s not like they’re close friends, but when they see each other, they all whoop and cheer. After almost four days, it’s good to see other people, and being part of a larger group might help dissipate any lingering awkwardness between her and Gaila, Nyota thinks with a prick of guilt.

“You made it. Excellent,” Tironam from Team Epsilon says. “We were a little worried when you missed the last check-in.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Gaila shrugs and lets herself fall down on the soft, mossy ground next to Tiro. “Our battery pack gave out a few hours ago.”

Sira nods and makes a sympathetic noise. “I just wish the other two teams were already here.”

“According to projections, they still have a few hours, right?” Gaila ask although Nyota knows she has all estimated arrival times memorized.

“Yeah,” Sira sighs heavily, “but our group was supposed to be the last one here, and we arrived hours ago.” She lets the implication linger.

“Maybe their terrain was rougher than the scans made it out to be.” Gaila’s tone is pragmatic, but it’s clear she’s trying to counteract the doubt and nervous tension in Sira’s tone. “Nyota and I lost almost two hours in a muddy bog; something similar might well have happened to them.”

“Yeah, true,” Sira concedes. “It’s probably just nerves on my part. Maybe we should comm them?”

The next regular check-in is less than two hours away, and since energy conservation is still a major concern, they convince her to wait until then.

In the meantime, they start combining and calibrating their equipment for off-world communication, making sure they’ll be ready to try and contact their instructors as soon as the other teams have arrived. It also gives them a chance to talk about their different journeys and the wide range of terrains and climes this environment contains.

It takes them the better part of an hour to set up everything, and as the first sun starts to set, they all sit down in the shade of a big, knobby tree, its intertwined trunks ranging in color from teal to indigo, tapering out into delicate branches with curled leaves that create a beautiful canopy above them.

They drink water and share rations, which differ greatly between groups. After they’ve tried the thick petals of a blue flower that taste like apple and a savory, crunchy weed, both of which Sira and Gavi gathered on their way, everyone agrees that their team lucked out in terms of food.

“This place has got to be terraformed,” Gavi says between bites of weed, “because this is Taroola from my home world, no doubt about it. But none of the other plants seems Malixan.”

This observation gets everyone talking about some of the weirder flora they encountered along the way – as well as the complete lack of fauna. By unspoken agreement, neither Gaila nor Nyota mention their encounter with the spores.

A few minutes before the next check-in, they hear rustling and dull thudding noises from the other end of the clearing, and only moments later, Glaynork and Maa are breaking through the dense shrubbery, making good use of the machete in their arsenal.

Nyota hopes it’s not too obvious how the tension seeps out from everyone, relief smoothing out their features once Team Alpha’s arrival confirms that they didn’t try and con everyone else.

Just then, all padds chime simultaneously, Team Gamma checking in right on time, letting them know that they made good time and should be no more than three kilometers out.

With nightfall fast approaching, it’s especially great news since it means they won’t have to set up camp.

“A shower, a full meal, my own bed – all of that sounds like heaven right about now,” Gavi says with a deep, wistful sigh. Everyone agrees.

All of them keep themselves busy while they wait, repacking their bags, walking the perimeter of the clearing and washing their hands and faces in a tiny brook Sira discovered behind a few thorny bushes. It’s like no one can stand still now that they’re so close to the finish line but with nothing left to do to help the process along.

The second sun is hanging low in the sky when the shadowy outlines of Woo and Tep’la become visible through the tall, skinny trees to the east of the clearing.

Their arrival immediately energizes everyone, making them run towards the newcomers, clapping and shouting, greeting them like heroes, hoots and whistles ringing through the air and culminating in a series of hugs. Even Nyota joins in, although she’s usually not much of a hugger, the general elation overriding most of her awkwardness.

The whole group comes to stand around the comm module (much closer than the five-meter radius required by the assignment), and an excited, anxious silence descends.

“I’m going to initiate the signal, okay?” Nyota hears herself say. Patience isn’t exactly her strong suit, and she honestly can’t see any reason to delay this further.

“Please do,” Glaynork says with feeling, and everyone seems thankful for her initiative.

Nyota pushes the button, and at first, there’s nothing. No sound to indicate their equipment is working. No noise from anyone in their group, like they’re all waiting with bated breaths.

Finally, something seems to be happening, an erratic beeping sound coming from the module as it crackles and snaps to life. For a moment, Nyota is worried that their makeshift device might overheat, that one of the old-fashioned transistors or relays might get fried, that they’ll have to scramble to build another beacon from the equipment they have left, but then, the voice of instructor Aeenechi comes through, not loud, but fairly clear.

“Congratulations, cadets.” She sounds upbeat like always, like she never doubted that any of them would make it. “You have successfully completed your mission. We will beam you up shortly in groups of two.”

There’s more whooping and cheering, and just as Sira notes that they’re almost exactly a day ahead of their deadline, the transporter beam locks on to her and Gavi and sends them back to the ship.

\--

After a quick health eval, their instructors take them to a meeting room with snacks and beverages for a debrief. Both Aeenechi and Sh'shihron express their pride in how well they internalized and acted on Starfleet values.

“It’s not always easy to put the group before one’s self,” Sh'shihron says in her stately, low voice, her antennae completely unmoving. “It is to your credit that you did so across a distance and in spite of a set-up that encouraged you to regard each other as rivals.”

Her words carry some of the self-serious import Nyota associates more with their Vulcan instructors, but they’re true, too. The hope that collaboration, trust and goodwill are going to be enough to ensure peace and prosperity for all lies at the heart of Starfleet, and even though Nyota would not say it like that out loud, it’s one of the reasons she decided to join. It’s one of the reasons many people join.

\--

After about half an hour, the ship has reached the orbit over San Francisco and their instructors send them off to the transporter room with well wishes for the upcoming break and their future studies.

Curiously, Aeenechi gestures for Gaila and Nyota to hang back.

“So you two found the tunnel system,” she says, inclining her head. “We didn’t think anyone would.”

Nyota feels her face heat up and tries not to think about why.

“Is that a problem?” She wants her voice to be calm but can’t keep out a defensive note.

“Not for us,” the instructor gestures at both of them, dismissing the idea. “We’re just glad it didn’t turn into a problem for you.”

Right as Nyota opens her mouth, Gaila asks, “What do you mean?”

“The transporter buffers showed that you have been exposed to Jierola spores, which are native to these caves.”

In the briefing, they were told about the cave and tunnel system, a part of the asteroid’s original geography that had been preserved when terraforming the environment to be used as a site of botanical experimentation and simulated missions.

“Oh, yeah,” Nyota and Gaila say almost in unison, a confirmation of fact, even if it’s still unclear what their teachers are getting at.

“They’re not poisonous, don’t worry,” Sh'shihrona assures them, “and have no detrimental health effects, but they do lower inhibition thresholds – internal filters, if you will – to a point where some people get into intense arguments or even physical altercations after exposure.”

Aeenechi claps her hands together and adds, “Thankfully, the effect starts to fade after about twelve hours and any remaining spores die off when exposed to sunlight.” She inclines her head. “And it doesn’t seem like you two were adversely affected.”

“No. No, we weren’t,” Gaila replies quickly. “We worked well together in the caves, like always.” Her voice is carefully neutral, and the heat in Nyota’s cheeks intensifies.

“That’s good,” their instructor nods, and her smile turns warm, almost gentle. “But in case either of you did say something unkind or hurtful, we’re sorry. Don’t take it to heart.”

“Now go and enjoy your break,” she adds with a small shooing gesture.

“Don’t work too hard, both of you,” Sh'shihrona admonishes them, pointing her finger from one to the other. Nyota gives a half-shrug, feeling called-out for the two internships she has lined up. At least Gaila is no better with a condensed astronomy course that’s going to take up most of her break. “Relax, have some fun.” The teacher’s blue antennae give a light wiggle. Nyota didn’t even know Andorians could do that.

They thank their instructors and turn around to leave. Nyota’s almost through the door when a strange impulse makes her turn around.

“They don’t make you lie, do they?” she asks before she can question herself. “The spores, I mean.”

“No, they don’t,” Sh’shihrona shakes her head, face placid like always. She really would make a great Vulcan. “All they do is reveal – unearth – what’s already there.”

“But these truths can come out with great force,” Aeenechi chimes in, “especially if they have been pushed down for too long. It’s like popping the cork on a bottle.” She bows her head. “You’re clearly good friends. Don’t let a few angry words under the influence of a spore get in the way of that.”

\--

As they walk towards the transporter room, neither of them speaks, but there’s a roiling and churning in Nyota’s mind that feels like it would drown out any sound. They make it to the transporter pad without exchanging a single word, and if they didn’t live in the same dorm, in the same room, Nyota might be able to ignore what happened and walk away.

As it is, they keep going in the same direction, curiously in step even as they can’t seem to look at each other, and every second they’re walking side by side, this _need_ in Nyota builds. The need to say something, to put into words all those feelings swirling, rushing, coursing through her like physical, tangible things, to confront Gaila and the truth and her own feelings.

They manage not to interact all the way to their dorm room, and when the door closes behind them, it feels like the tension in Nyota has been building for so long that she won’t be able to pop the cork without breaking something.

If Gaila doesn’t say anything or at least look at her, if she goes straight to the shower, if she closes that door, puts up that barrier, Nyota will pull her packed bag from beneath her bed and walk away. She will walk away from the implications and the feelings and the whole damn mess.

But Gaila doesn’t leave.

Instead, she lets herself fall down heavily onto her pristine white bed, shaking little bits of dirt, sand and debris out of her hair, dust particles floating in the air around her like a chaotic halo.

Her eyes dart in Nyota’s direction, but it doesn’t feel like she’s looking at Nyota at all.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she says, and her voice is … heavy, closed-off, maybe, like it never is.

Nyota swallows and sits down next to Gaila; not close enough for their thighs to touch, but not that far away either.

“And what if I want to?” Her own voice sounds strange in Nyota’s head, like her ears are about to pop, like there’s water trapped inside her ear drums.

Gaila inclines her head, and there’s weariness in her features and an uneasy tension that’s startling in someone who always seems so comfortable inside their own skin. And maybe Nyota is projecting, but there might be a longing, too, a hidden meaning in her expression, like she’s trying to communicate with Nyota in a language she doesn’t understand.

“A lot of people want to sleep with Orions,” Gaila says finally, and her tone is carefully calibrated, almost upbeat. Like it’s no big deal. Like it happens all the time.

And Nyota knows it does, at least sometimes. She’s heard Gaila make jokes about some people hitting on her because they’re “chasing the rainbow” and reptilian dates are hard to come by. She has heard rumors about Orions, too. In fact, she almost broke a girl’s nose once for making an incredibly rude comment while she watched Gaila on the dance floor.

And right there, even though she doesn’t quite know how, Nyota begins to understand. Begins to understand the uncharacteristic reluctance. Begins to understand that this isn’t about casual sex, but about something deeper.

“Well, I didn’t,” she says, and it makes Gaila’s face crease in confusion and something that might be hurt.

Nyota takes a chance, takes Gaila’s hand.

“I wanted to sleep with _you_. Because you’re you.” She smiles weakly, a little embarrassed by her own lack of eloquence, but as she sees Gaila’s face slowly change, sees a hopeful expression making her cheeks round and her lips curve, Nyota’s own smile grows stronger.

“Actually,” Nyota decides to take a bigger chance, a real leap, “there is much more I want from you.”

“You do?” There’s none of Gaila’s usual flirtatiousness in her voice, only a vulnerable kind of awe.

“I decided not to have a relationship at the academy because I thought it would impair my studies.” Gaila knows about Nyota’s ‘rule’, but she doesn’t know where it really came from. “I didn’t want to be bogged down with relationship drama because, honestly, I’ve been there before, and it’s painful and it’s exhausting.”

She swallows and strokes Gaila’s hand with her thumb. “But we fit, you know.” It seems too simple, but maybe good things can be simple sometimes. “We’ve been roommates and friends and study buddies for two years now. You’re a wonderful person and you bring levity to my life, this … this easy joy. I struggle with letting go, with living in the moment, but with you, I can.”

Nyota takes a deep breath. “And I like to think that I bring something to the table, too, that I’m one of the few people you allow to see your … cerebral side, to see all of you. I think we make each other better. Not performance-wise, but just,” she makes a gesture of exasperated elation, like each word is making her lighter and happier, and yet it’s hard to find the ones that fit just right, “the way I feel when I’m with you. And I want to keep having that. I don’t want to not see you for ten weeks over break, and I want to kiss you when I feel like it and touch you and,” her eyes find Gaila’s and she laughs, nervous, but hopeful, “I just really, really, really like you.”

Gaila smiles at her, bright and completely open.

“Thank you,” she says, and the words linger for a moment before she adds, “That was beautiful. And I,” she squeezes Nyota’s hand, “I feel it, too. All of it.”

For a moment, they just grin at each other, and then Nyota feels her expression fade into something softer, more private, that she sees mirrored on Gaila’s face.

“So I take it it’s okay if I do this now,” she whispers and leans in close. Gaila doesn’t answer, just bridges the gap between them to capture Nyota’s mouth in a kiss.

“I don’t want to come on too strong,” Gaila says after their kiss has turned heated and their hands have already started roaming. “But how about we shower together and then make use of that perfectly clean and soft bed over there?”

Nyota thinks it’s a great idea.

The time they’ve saved by completing the assignment a day early is spent almost entirely in Nyota’s bed.

It’s very soft and comfy, after all.

**Author's Note:**

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